Cornered
by EchoRose480
Summary: Young!Merlin Twelve year old Merlin has been Arthur's manservant for two full years now. He's reached a good point. But then he starts seeing things that no one else can. Doing things that he shouldn't be able to. Who can he trust to be there when he breaks? And is everything as it seems? Whump!Reveal!fic, though not in the way you you'll expect. :) Full summary inside!


**Cornered**

**Summary: **12 year old Merlin has been Arthur's manservant for two years. He's enjoying his role as the new king's unofficial adviser as he comes into power. But then Merlin starts seeing things. And nobody else seems them. Are they really hallucinations? Something inside of him is growing. Something he can't control. Who can he trust? And who would believe him?

**Disclaimer: ***insert creative and snarky way of saying I don't own Merlin*

**Warnings: **

No slash!

Contains scary images.

Also contains a heap of angst, all throughout. There is also humor, hurt/comfort, and lots of bromance.

There is a bit of Arwen ahead. But don't worry, this story's focus is not on romance. Any Arwen will be done with minimalism and taste.

Lots of protective!knights and protective!everybody towards Merlin, but done tastefully.

In this story, Merlin is a decade younger than everyone else, so the relationships are going to be different in some aspects, with the same core sweetness. If you don't like AU's, or are really stubborn about relationships being exactly the same as they are in the show, I'd leave now.

**_A note to my readers (PLEASE READ!)_: All my other stories at the moment, aside from _Down_, are going to be put on the back burner until I have this finished. I've saddled myself with too many stories and just can't handle having to work on them all. I am devoting myself to this one and Down for awhile. If I have the time and the energy, I will contribute to my other stories as well. Sorry to all of those who are following my other stories! I love all you guys, but I just need to focus my inspiration for awhile. :)**

**Characters: **Merlin

Arthur

Gwaine

Lancelot (potentially)

Gwen

Gaius

The knights

Possible OC's (they won't be very heavily focused on, if I include them)

******Please don't take the writing in this first chapter too seriously. I wrote it quite awhile ago, so the chapters to come will be more well-written, and less cheesy. I may even rewrite this chapter at some point. Well, without any further ado, please enjoy my story!**

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_**

A voice cut through Merlin's dream, dissolving the shapes and colors. He scrunched his closed eyes in a hapless attempt to stave off the intrusion, and reenter oblivion.

"No," he moaned pitifully. Someone was shaking his shoulder, bouncing him up and down on the mattress. Merlin swiped his hand out in annoyance, and felt a flicker of triumph at the pained yelp that followed.

"Merlin!" Oh, it was Arthur.

Further determined, Merlin grabbed the edge of his blanket and pulled it up over his head.

"It's too early!"

He could imagine Arthur rolling his eyes, but didn't check to see if he was right. He snuggled his face deeper into the pillow, curling into a protective ball. But to no avail.

With a mighty heave, Arthur turned Merlin's world upside down as he flipped over the mattress. Merlin yelped and flailed his arms, toppling over onto the floor with a painful thud. He growled and defiantly pulled the blanket tighter around him, rolling into it like a cocoon.

Arthur pulled of the mattress and moaned in irritation at the sight of Merlin rolled up in his sheets. He snatched what he could, and yanked upward. Merlin unraveled at the bottom, rolling over and over until there was nothing left, and he fell onto the cold floor.

"Arthur, what is it?" he said in an irritated whine, hiding his eyes in the crook of his elbow, "There's no council meeting, or anything, is there?" he loathed the thought. Thankfully, Arthur perished it.

"No,"

"Good,"

"But you still need to come with me,"

Merlin sighed deeply, trying to expel the frustration, and cracked one eyelid open. Arthur towered over him, head cocked sideways with his hands at his hips. He wore one of his best shirts, a white cotton tunic with gold embroidery at the cuffs and collar. His hair was unusually trim, combed back to display a freshly shaven jaw. He seemed to smell faintly of flowers.

Merlin made a sound somewhere caught between a snicker and a groan. Arthur glared at him, and reached down, ignoring Merlin's protests as he pulled him to his feet by the scruff of his shirt.

"Get dressed. I'm going to be late as it is, thanks to your doddling,"

It was Merlin's turn to roll his eyes, but his shoulders fell and he dutifully walked to his dresser,

"Have you ever considered…" he grumbled, pulling out his blue shirt and lifting off his tattered night one, "going on a date with Gwen _without _my help?"

Merlin pulled the shirt over his head, getting stuck for a moment, and temporarily muffling Arthur's smug voice,

"Of course not. It's below my station to perform such menial tasks required of a servant, like yourself,"

Merlin laughed humorlessly as he slipped his arms into the sleeves, and then plopped down on the floor next to the bed and began tugging on his boots,

"I'm fairly certain that writing poetry isn't in the official job description," he said. Arthur waved the comment away, though his cheeks had tinged slightly red,

"Irrelevant. I'm your king, _and _your master. So, technically I should be getting about twice the amount of obedience you show me," he smirked. Merlin scoffed and stood, then began hopping on one foot as he fought to pull on the second boot,

"Solid logic, _master_. Tell me, wherever do you get such a refined intellect?" Arthur scowled and raised an eyebrow, glancing sidelong at his servant,

"Don't push your luck, _Mer_lin. I can still have you executed if I want,"

Merlin's foot slipped into the boot with an abrupt _thump_, and he stumbled to a straight position. He ran a hand through his sleep-mussed hair and grinned at his prince as he regained his balance,

"Ahh, but you wouldn't," he raised a finger philosophically, then walked forward, slowly and deliberately reaching up to poke Arthur's nose and leaving it there, "What would you do without someone to make sure your lady friend doesn't go running for the hills?"

Merlin dodged Arthur's wild jab and ran out the door with a yelp.

"Merlin!"

…

Dawn had not yet arrived, though the promise of sunrise was apparent in the purpling sky, where the stars and moon were just beginning to fade. Camelot was silent, still in the comfortable chill of early morning. The paved granite of the roads and light wood of the buildings looked oddly luminescent, the vestiges of last night's rain clinging in the form of dew to any likely surface. Faint wisps of smoke curled gently upward from the blackened chimneys of those few businesses that had to be up at this ungodly hour in order to run properly.

Merlin rubbed his eye and yawned, trying to wipe away the lingering sleepiness.

Suddenly, Arthur's figure disrupted the peaceful visage as he stomped into the courtyard. Merlin watched from the top of the steps as the king stopped, looked under his arm and then around the surrounding area before his eyes alighted upon his amused manservant.

"Merlin!" he whispered loudly, obviously afraid of waking his subjects. Merlin hid a smile behind another yawn, and trotted down the steps to his king's side, boots padding softly against the smooth stone as he descended.

"You know," he said matter of factly, falling in step beside Arthur, who had begun to walk without him, "You're king now. It's not as if there's anyone you and Gwen need to hide from."

Arthur rolled his eyes, and huffed,

"Yes, _Mer_lin, I do know that. Unfortunately, you seem to have trouble understanding that being king isn't all just fun and games…" he went on, and Merlin tuned him out. It was the same old, 'The troubles of ruling a kingdom are so far beyond your grasp you wouldn't be able to see them if they slapped you in the face' speech that Arthur used whenever Merlin made him uncomfortable. Usually, by mentioning the lack of risks Arthur had been taking in his new position as king. Merlin believed that Arthur should take advantage of his power to create change where it was needed. Arthur did too, of course. But, unlike Merlin, he wasn't particularly inclined towards the similarly based ideas mentioned by the manservant, which went along the lines of, "screw the council" and "grow a backbone".

All these things Merlin said in jest, of course. But he knew that there was a grain of truth behind them. And Merlin knew Arthur knew as well. And that was why he always seemed to turn a bit defensive when they talked about it.

Arthur went on to explain how he had a council meeting later that morning, and wanted his date with Gwen to go about incognito.

Merlin searched the sky for the sun. What he could see was just barely peeking over the horizon through a vale of foggy clouds.

"...Besides," Arthur continued, "I could do without the hassle of having to explain to every nobleman what I was doing instead of discussing the price of silk trade, or why I wasn't around the castle to chat with a cup of tea after their afternoon naps-"

Merlin interrupted as they turned onto another street, where carts and stalls were wrapped in the cheap and coarse gauze of homespun tarps,

"Look, Arthur, I get it. You don't have to defend yourself…"

Arthur whipped his head towards him angrily,

"I'm not trying to def-" Merlin didn't stop, though,

"I get it that you don't want to make a bad impression. It's not as if I don't see how judgmental those nobles can be. They are your next of kin, after all,"

Arthur scoffed,

"I'm not worried about their judgment," he growled. He then sighed and ran a hand through his hair, his eyes becoming oddly tender, "But I don't want to put Gwen through that. Not yet, at least. I'm still new to this position, Merlin. I have to prove myself to these men. They don't trust me yet."

Merlin pursed his lips, but shook his head,

"They don't distrust you," he said after a pause, "they _underestimate_ you. And who says you need their trust anyway?" there was a slight bitterness to his voice.

Arthur furrowed his brow in what might have been a thoughtful expression or a frown, but Merlin didn't pay it any mind as they approached the city gates.

The two guards standing at ready on either side didn't even flinch as they walked by, except for one of them discreetly handing off a knapsack to Arthur, who then tossed the bag to Merlin once they entered the woods. Merlin fumbled with it for a moment before swinging the strap over his shoulder.

"See that?" Merlin said pointing back to where they came from, and raising his eyebrows at Arthur, "You already have _their _loyalty, and they're the ones that matter." Arthur looked down at him with equal parts amusement and annoyance. Merlin twisted his arm around to the sack and reached in, pulling out a fat, red apple and then biting into it. He sucked a bit of juice off his finger, and gestured at Arthur,

"You don't have anything to prove to those nobles. What you need to do is prove them wrong. Spoiled gits, the lot of 'em," he grumbled, glaring at the apple as if it had personally wronged him.

Arthur threw his head back and laughed. Merlin felt rather pleased with himself, until Arthur stopped and promptly slapped Merlin upside the head,

"Don't curse," he said.

Merlin huffed and rubbed the sore spot,

"Like you're any better."

"You know," Arthur chuckled, throwing his arm around Merlin's neck and pulling him in for a painful knuckle-rub, "You talk an awful lot, for someone so stupid."

Merlin laughed as he grabbed futilely at Arthur's burly arms, "Stop! Stop! You'll squish the sandwiches!"

Arthur ruffled his hair and released him with a flourish. Merlin stumbled for a moment, than ran to catch back up, combing his fingers through his mop in a vain attempt to tidy it.

Merlin was slightly pleased to see Arthur's silky mane had gone somewhat out of whack, as well.

…..

Merlin gazed into the forest, listening to the soft chatting of Gwen and Arthur behind him. Arthur had told him to stay out of sight, so he had walked off a ways to lean against the trunk of a large oak tree. Every now and again, he'd peer out from his hiding place to watch the two of them.

Gwen looked lovely. She wore a dark violet skirt and an off shoulder bodice. Her hair was braided skillfully behind her head, with bright yellow flowers woven in for a pretty effect. She wore no makeup.

Her head was pillowed on Arthur's lap, her knees bent upward. Her hands rested in the loose fabric between her thighs, and she seemed to be fiddling with something.

Arthur had told a joke, apparently, for he and Gwen both began to laugh. As Merlin watched, he saw the worry melt from Arthur's face. It was rather remarkable really. Ever since becoming king, there had been this...heaviness to him. Something that never seemed to go away. But Gwen was amazing. She took it in stride, and had a special way of lightening that burden on Arthur's shoulders.

Merlin smiled. He wondered if they knew like he did how much they deserved one another.

He turned back around and shook his head. He was too young for that sort of nonsense. Probably always would be.

He stared into the forest, allowing his friends some privacy. Where the sun cast broken light through the foliage, tiny bugs were illuminated in gently hovering clouds.

His mind wandered to the first time he'd been in this forest. He hadn't really known at the time where he was going. The white parapets of Camelot had been all but unknown to him. But then again, coming hadn't really been his choice.

And then it happened. A sudden pounding blasted through Merlin's head.

_Thumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthump_

Merlin thrust his hands over his ears and doubled over. What was that? He looked up, but the forest seemed to blur and flicker. Colors all at once bled into one other, and the rapid beats in Merlin's head grew louder. He crumpled to the ground and curled up onto his knees.

_THUMP__THUMP__THUMP__THUMP__THUMP__THUMP__THUMP__THUMP_

And then another sound stabbed through his skull. A loud, grating scraping.

_CHHCHHHCHHHCHHCHHH._

And suddenly, the source came invasively into focus. Amidst the blurry shapes of his warbled vision, a small figure was clear and sharp. His eyes seemed to zoom in on a small, gray bird that was preening the inside of its wing. The scraping.

_THUMP__THUMP__THUMP__THUMP__THUMP._

It's heartbeat!

"Merlin,"

And then, it was all gone. The forest returned to normal, the sounds quieted and then disappeared altogether. Merlin's vision pulled back into normal range. He blinked, and turned his head to see a hand on his shoulder. He looked up and saw Arthur, who wasn't returning the gaze, but was staring at Gwen excitedly.

Merlin opened and closed his mouth. It was dry. He croaked.

Arthur noticed the lack of a response, and turned to face him,

"Merlin!" he whispered fiercely, thrusting out his open palm, "the poem?"

The request pierced through the lingering grogginess, and Merlin shook himself,

"Uh, right," he said, reaching into the folds of his neckerchief for the slip of paper, all the while very aware of Arthur's eyes on him. He pulled it out, and Arthur snatched it from his hands. He narrowed his eyes at Merlin suspiciously, before turning away.

Merlin looked at his hands, and saw that they were shaking. He thrust them under his armpits and pressed his back against the sturdy oak.

What just happened?

"Oh, Arthur, this is so beautiful," Gwen's voice reached Merlin's ears, along with Arthur's pleased response. But then Gwen yelled, "Thank you, Merlin!"

Merlin swallowed.

"Y-You're welcome!"

"_Mer_lin!"

…

The afternoon had come and, with it, a blistering heat. The sun had burnt through any clouds from that morning, leaving nothing to counteract the odd weather.

Merlin swiped his arm across his forehead as he walked through the streets of Camelot. Running errands for Gaius was never particularly fun, but today it was truly unpleasant. The air was stiff and dry, lacking any kind of breeze to make up for it. The only moving thing in the air was the dirt being kicked up by people in the streets.

Merlin swallowed and smacked his lips, then rubbed his sore throat. He peered through the mass of bodies, deciding to find some water before heading back to Gaius' for the list of herbs he needed to gather outside of town. He had been delivering medicine all morning since getting back from Arthur's date (the king had immediately rushed off to a meeting he'd claimed he was late for), and so found himself yearning for some shade and a few moments of relaxation. He felt exhausted, and not just because of the chores and lack of adequate sleep.

His mind kept running over what had happened in the woods, all those strange sensations that had overcome him in what must have only been a short span of time. Had he just fallen into a light doze? Had it been some kind of strange daydream?

Shaking his head, Merlin sighed through his nose and pinched it hard. Trying hard to ignore the squeezing unease in his gut, he fought to focus on anything else.

It was market day. It was almost impossible to navigate through the throngs of people buying and selling, and almost impossible to think over the din of moving carts, whinnying horses, loud conversations, and vendors yelling out their wares with unsuppressed gusto. Merlin was shorter than most of the adults there, and so kept his head down, afraid of finding himself to nose with some man's back, or a woman's bosom. He was not very short for his age, but hadn't had his first growth spurt yet, according to Gaius. Arthur insisted Merlin would always be this size, while Gwaine and some of the knights thought he would just continue to grow agonizingly slowly up into his twenties, so, being neither impressed nor happy with either solution, Merlin opted to believe his guardian's theory.

He reached the water pump, clumsily breaking from the crowd and almost tripping over himself, before managing to regain his balance. He ascended the stone steps, and grabbed the handle, but flinched at the hot metal against his fingers. He untied his neckerchief, and wrapped it around his hand before trying again. He watched happily as a stream of water burst forth from the faucet, and thrust his hand under to feel it turn cool.

He stuck his head under the stream, continued to push the pump with one hand, and whooped at the cool liquid running off his neck and down the back of his shirt and into his hair. He turned his face up and let the water pool in his mouth and run out the corners as he gulped it down.

But suddenly, pain erupted in his mouth. He gagged and coughed harshly, as the water was no longer water but coarse sand, scratching his cheeks, tongue and throat, ripping at the soft flesh. He yanked his head back, hacking, but hit it on the pipe with a loud clang and an explosion of red. He fell backward off the steps and landed hard in the dirt, clutching his head with one hand, and swiping at his lips with the other.

Instead, he only felt water. Water and saliva.

"What…?" Merlin muttered, looking at his clean hands, and then back up to the pump. Nothing but a thin trickle of water spilled from the faucet, almost mockingly.

"Merlin?"

Merlin jumped at the voice, and looked up.

"Gwaine!" he yelped, voice perfectly clear, showing no signs that his throat had undergone any sort of trauma. Merlin felt a cold chill wash over him like a dry fog, mingling with the ghostly pain. It had happened.

Hadn't it?

Gwaine was kneeling in front of him, head cocked sideways with a highly amused grin, though his eyes were oddly stern,

"I told you not to stick your head under the water," he said, holding out a hand, which Merlin took.

"You," Merlin grunted, as Gwaine pulled him to his feet, "are the one who showed it to me in the first place,"

Gwaine gave a careless, one-shouldered shrug and smirked,

"What can I say? Some of us have better luck than others. And you, my boy," he reached forward and combed his hand through Merlin's hair, eliciting a wince on the young servant's part, "apparently do not." Gwaine finished faintly, frowning in concern at what Merlin knew was probably a rising bump on his skull.

"Well, maybe you should try to practice what you preach," Merlin gasped out, as Gwaine probed at the wound with surprising gentleness, "That way, I'll stop hurting myself, and you won't look like such an arse."

Gwaine absently cuffed Merlin on the shoulder, still picking through his raven hair with his other hand,

"Don't curse," he said. Merlin rolled his eyes, and waited for Gwaine to finish his inspection, smirking winsomely over at the few brave onlookers who were obviously very entertained by the whole scene. It was a mask though. Inside he was reeling from what had just happened.

It had been so vivid; the sand in his mouth, the way it stung his skin and burned in his eyes. The pain was no longer there, though, as if it had all been in his head.

But it couldn't have been. It just…

"Well, my lad, you should have that old prune of yours take a look at this, but I don't think there will be any lasting damage," Gwaine said boisterously with a cheeky grin. Merlin tried to return it, but his resolve wavered. Should he tell him?

Gwaine, blast him, noticed the hesitation and placed his hands on his hips. He took a step back and peered down at the young man,

"Alright, what is it, mate?" he asked, his voice firm, but his eyes soft. Merlin felt his cheeks burn,

"Did…did _you_ see?" he stuttered. Gwaine cocked an eyebrow at him,

"See what?"

Merlin glanced nervously back to the pump. Not one crummy grain of sand to be seen. Merlin shook his head, chewing his bottom lip,

"Nothing," he said, looking up at Gwaine with a smile he knew was much more convincing than the last one, "Heat's getting to me, I guess." Gwaine narrowed his eyes. Merlin gulped.

Apparently finding nothing, the knight lit up with a giant smile and clapped Merlin on the shoulder,

"Good then! Well, you best get to some shade, and I best be off. Wouldn't want to keep his royal highness waiting, after all." He swiveled on his heel to leave, but Merlin called after him before he'd taken more than a few swaggering steps,

"Wait!" Gwaine turned, "is Arthur having a tournament today?"

The long-haired knight nodded,

"Aye. Just a silly excuse for some of us clunk-heads to show off after training," his face split in a wide grin, "You should come watch, once you've checked up with Gaius."

Merlin nodded, forcing a smile. He started to run in the direction of his home, but the throbbing pain in his head only grew at the sudden jostling, so he slowed down.

He really wouldn't want to throw up on his good shirt.

…..

Merlin burst through the door of Gaius' chambers, causing the old man to jump and clutch his chest,

"Merlin!" he cried in annoyance, looking at the spilled potion in front of him with a mildly distraught expression. Merlin flinched and hunched his shoulders near his ears, freezing where he stood,

"Oh, sorry, Gaius," he said, cringing.

An awkward moment of silence passed, filled only with the whining of the door, and a dull thud as it bounced off the inner wall.

Gaius raised one eyebrow to near his hairline, but let the corner of his lip curl upward in a gesture of forgiveness. He turned back to his work.

"What could possibly cause such a rush of excitement, my boy?" Gaius asked as he proceeded to mop up the mess currently causing smoke to rise from the wooden table. Merlin touched the back of his head bashfully as he closed the door behind him, and stepped farther into the room,

"Umm, well, I hit my head…sorta. And, Gwaine wanted you to see,"

Gaius put down what he was doing and walked over, mouth set in a firm line as he reached Merlin's side. He touched his shoulder and sat him down at one of the benches.

"What did you do now?" he asked sternly as he parted Merlin's hair and began prodding at the tender area. Merlin gritted his teeth and shrugged. He fixed his eyes on the floor. For some reason, he was terrified of meeting Gaius's eyes, of his guardian _seeing _something…

"Just clumsy, I guess," he said, though it made him feel very suddenly sick inside. He hated lying to Gaius, it just didn't feel…right. But the guilt was encumbered by the ice in his chest. What if he didn't believe him? It was no big deal, anyways, right?

He tried to massage the fear away with rational thinking. He must have just imagined it. Maybe the heat _had_ messed with his head. Logic and memory battled for dominance in his mind, while all his heart could do was harbor a kind of subconscious, leaden dread. He puzzled, trying to figure out what exactly was wrong with him today...

Maybe, it was nothing.

Merlin yelped as Gaius pressed down on the bump one last time before pulling away,

"Well," he said, looking unsatisfied, "It's just a bruise. Try not to hit it on anything else, and you should be fine."

Merlin nodded and smiled winningly at his guardian. Gaius' lip twitched, and his eyes sparkled with amusement.

"Be off with you," he said, inclining his head towards the door, "You obviously have somewhere you want to be. You can take care of the herbs tonight."

Merlin grinned lopsidedly, then slid off the table. He paused at the doorway,

"Thanks, Gaius."

….

By the time Merlin got to the training fields, a crowd had already formed.

The onlookers for the "tournament" were mostly just knights and a few servants here or there.

The sun beat down on the field, its rays reflected by the grass and gravel, causing a shining aura to ripple around the area where the knights' training usually took place. Carts were scattered around, so weapons and buckets of water could sit in the bits of shade they provided.

Merlin strolled forward searchingly.

"Sire!" he called, quickening his pace. Arthur turned at the sound, and saw Merlin approaching. He was fiddling with the straps of his leather arm brace. He beckoned Merlin closer with one hand and turned back around.

Merlin hurried forward and reached his side, panting,

"Who're you fighting?" he asked. Arthur gave him a sidelong glance, then went back to his straps,

"It's called sparring, Merlin," he rolled his eyes, "And his name's Grets, that one over there," Arthur raised his chin, indicating the unhealthily tan and buff knight on the other side of the arena. Merlin nodded, than turned back and sighed exasperatedly,

"Give me that," he grabbed Arthur's arm and began working on the straps himself. Arthur wrinkled his nose and glanced suspiciously at his manservant,

"Merlin, is that you?"

"What?" Merlin finished tying off the knot, and glanced up, "Me?" he raised his armpit and sniffed dubiously, than shook his head, "No, nothing,"

Arthur leaned closer and inhaled, then coughed and covered his nose,

"Augh! Yes, it is. It's your hair!" Merlin cocked an eyebrow, then his eyes widened and he snapped his fingers,

"It was probably Gaius! He was working on a potion when I came in, and probably put the stink in my hair."

Arthur gave him a funny look, and opened his mouth to speak. But he was cut off,

"Having fun, your highness?" the voice said. Merlin turned to see Grets pulling on gloves as he swaggered forward into the arena, leaving a thin cloud of hot dust in his wake. Arthur smiled good-naturedly, though his eyes glinted with annoyance,

"Not yet," he replied. Merlin snickered and shuffled over a few paces to the nearest cart, leaning against it and shading his eyes.

Grets and Arthur circled each other, tapping blades ceremoniously before springing back and crouching down.

There was that breathless moment of silence. And then the two surged forward.

Their swords connected with a mighty clash and Grets' roar of fury. Merlin cheered and whistled along with the rest of the spectators as Arthur slowly but surely gained the upper hand. It was a blur of movement and precision, a cycle of undulating skill and fitness.

Merlin felt his worries begin to ebb away with the gripping excitement of the crowd, and the distraction of keeping tabs on the fight.

It was not a moment after he had slipped into a warm, dismissive state of mind when it happened. A glimmer intruded on the corner of his vision. He turned towards it and his heart stopped.

"Arthur, look out!" he cried, rushing forward.

Arthur faltered in the process of bringing up his sword to block his opponent's blow, and gave a glance over his shoulder. It did him in.

Grets struck with harsh ferocity, the blunted edge of his sword colliding with Arthur's at just the right moment when the king was distracted. Arthur fell to one knee as the weapon was knocked from his hands.

In the meantime, Merlin had coasted to a sudden stop, frozen in stunned silence. He didn't notice that he was awkwardly standing within the circle created by the crowd. His eyes were glued to the vacant spot in the sky, filled with confusion.

But it was gone. The black, glittering wings were gone, the wide, murderous eyes, the lethal claws and bared fangs wer gone.

Merlin was snapped out of his shock by the abrupt roar of the crowd. He looked down, and was met with the sight of Arthur standing over his opponent with his sword at Grets' throat.

Merlin watched in a kind of numb trance as Arthur helped him up and the two shook hands. Several people flocked towards them with congratulations and compliments on their lips.

Merlin must have fallen into a stupor of some type, for it was only when Arthur's hand clamped roughly on his shoulder, seized his jacket, and began leading him away that he remembered where he was.

Merlin stared with fascination at the clenched and angry line of Arthur's jaw as he was dragged forward several dozen yards away from the throng of people. Arthur whipped Merlin around so that their faces were almost touching, his hand still clenched on his arm painfully,

"What the hell was that, _Mer_lin? One of us could have killed you," he reprimanded harshly. Merlin felt a flare of anger, and yanked his arm from Arthur's grasp, stumbling back a few paces,

"Just trying to save your ungrateful arse, is all!" he bellowed back.

Arthur winced at his loud tone and glanced over at the crowd,

"Merlin," he countered, voice condescending as his eyes flitted back to his fuming servant, "It was just a sparring match, I wasn't in any danger."

His blue eyes bore into Merlin's, and what the young servant saw there was enough to make the smoldering anger in his gut dissipate, and be replaced by a horrible sinking feeling,

"No one…" he muttered quietly, gazing over at the crowd still chatting amiably, "No one saw it, did they?"

Arthur's brow furrowed quizzically at his manservant,

"Merlin, what on earth are you talking about?"

Merlin looked up at him dumbly, realizing he had spoken out loud,

"I-" he croaked, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to distract you. I just..." he looked to the ground, caught between dueling emotions: his loyalty to Arthur, pulling him to tell the truth, and the strange, unexplainable fear that clung to his chest like some kind of infection. His heart pounded against his ribcage in a rapid, panicked rhythm.

"Nothing. I'm sorry."

Arthur narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously, and Merlin swallowed,

"Why don't you go see if Gaius needs you?" he suggested somewhat forcibly, swiveling on his heel. Merlin bore his eyes into the dirt, and vaguely heard Arthur call over his shoulder, "Try and cool down a bit, too. The heat must be addling you're funny little brain."

His banter was meant to goad a reply from Merlin. But Merlin didn't notice.

He turned and left. And he didn't see when Arthur looked back.


End file.
